Stylendy oneshots
by kyleisgod
Summary: A series of Stan x Kyle x Wendy oneshots. Humor, love, drama, and probably sexy times. Rated M just in case.
1. let's go broncos

Author's notes: I decided to write a series of unconnected Stan/Kyle/Wendy oneshots because that pairing doesn't get enough coverage around here. I hope you all enjoy them. I don't own South Park. Lastly, the characters are aged up to be 18 or older in these stories.

...

"Do you know anything about football?"

Bebe laughed into her phone. "You were on the cheerleading team but don't know anything about the game?"

"No. I was on the squad for extracurricular activities; I could give two shits about the sport." Wendy tried searching the internet for information as she spoke with her friend, but it was like reading a foreign language. Which meant she'd eventually pick it up just as she had Japanese and Spanish. Still, having someone who could explain it to her now in simpler terms wouldn't have hurt.

"So then why do you want to learn it?"

"For Stan. He's been ignoring me a lot lately. I think he's in one of those Fantasy Football Leagues online. He's got some folder called 'Football Stuff' and it gets bigger like every week."

"Oh yeah, Clyde's in one of those."

"Yeah well I'm tired of it. He's on the laptop all the time. Sometimes he won't even go to bed with me even when I'm being really obvious about it. I was thinking if I could learn the stupid game maybe we could use it to reconnect. Like a cool girlfriend bonding thing, you know?"

"Just so long as you don't ask him to explain the game to you. Guys hate that."

"I know. That's where I was hoping you'd come in."

"I'll try. Open his folder. You can learn which players he has and stuff and go from there."

"Thanks."

Feeling rejuvenated from the ray of hope that was Bebe's familiarity, Wendy willed herself to sit up in bed. Her free hand clicked through the computer's windows until coming to her boyfriend's 'Football Stuff' folder.

"Huh, that's weird. The first thing in here's a picture of Kyle. He's in a Broncos jersey with no pants on."

Bebe laughed for the second time. "Probably some drunk inside joke." she guessed. "...Does the carpet match the drapes?"

"Yes." Wendy learned that much from the second picture: An aroused Kyle wearing only a Broncos helmet, his head leaned suggestively against the headboard of a bed, as if daring the viewer to ram his well-protected skull against it.

"Hot." Bebe said.

"I'll call you back."

Wendy hung up. She glared at the laptop screen as she scrolled through the folder's contents. Sure enough, it was all pictures. All of Kyle. All provocative. Most not even football-themed. Wendy got out of bed and headed for the walk-in closet to find a change of clothes.

...

"Wendy?" Stan called repeatedly as he moved throughout their shared apartment. No sign of her. Oh well. Stan sat down in bed; deciding to explore the Web for a while to unwind after work. His eyes lit up when he spotted a new e-mail from Kyle in his inbox. A new e-mail featuring an attached photograph. Score! Stan's jeans were quickly discarded. He saved the image to his trusty 'Football Stuff' folder, then went to actually view it.

Kyle was bent over a bed.

And crying.

With a pair of panties stuffed into his mouth and a football shoved deep up his ass. A larger-sized Canadian football at that. Standing over him was a glaring but still sexy-looking Wendy, who had decked herself out in a Broncos cheerleader uniform. Minus the underwear, which were visible between Kyle's teeth.

Stan's skin paled. His hardon quickly softened in fear. "Oh shit..." Hesitantly his eyes returned to the actual e-mail message, which contained some previously ignored text along with the picture.

"_Since you're so interested in "football" I decided to learn all about it. Feel bad? You should! He told me everything. Your little boyfriend has cost me a lot of sex lately. He'll be making that up to me tonight. After all, your hobby is my hobby now. ;) Don't like it? Tough. Be gone or asleep on the couch when I get back tomorrow. And be prepared to do some serious begging._

_Love, Wendy._

_PS: Go Broncos_."

Stan sighed and closed the laptop. He gathered up some of Wendy's excessive pillows from the bed along with a blanket, moving for the living room's couch.

He just hoped that once the smoke cleared he could get all the details about what happened!


	2. a good idea at the time

Author's note - Some accidental K2, Kendy, and Kyman in this chapter. Oh well, such is the fun of writing getting away from you.

...

"Will you stop being such a pussy?"

Frowning, Stan downed another red plastic cup of liquid courage. "I'm telling you Cartman, Wendy's not gonna like this."

"And I'm telling you it's fine. Look, it's your bachelor party. Guys have strippers at bachelor parties all the time. It's tradition!"

Stan's free hand pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why the hell did I pick you for my best man again?"

"Because Kyle ran off and Kenny would've gotten you a hooker."

"Some strippers _are_ hookers!" Stan pointed out. "You'd _better_ not let things get out of hand."

"It'll be fine, dude. Look, Wendy's a smart girl. She knows damn well we're gonna get you a dancer whether you want one or not. You can blame the whole thing on us. Besides, you don't think Wendy's girlfriends are over there on Waterson Street giggling at some dude shaking his package right now? They're doing the same things we are at the bachelorette party, don't kid yourself."

Stan sighed. "Well when's the girl getting here so we can get this over with?"

"Should be any time now."

"If this goes badly, Wendy's gonna kick your ass again." Stan warned Cartman. With that, Stan returned to his party to be sociable.

The knock at the door indicated the arrival of the stripper. The men in Stan's apartment raised their cups in toast and cheered. Cartman grabbed Stan and answered the door, prepared to introduce the groom to be to his personal slut for the evening.

As it turned out, they already knew each other.

"Stan?"

"Kyle?"

Cartman blinked. "Well. This is kinda awkward."

"Awkward my ass." Kyle said skeptically. "You wanted to make the Jew humiliate himself for singles in front of strangers while you made jokes about a Jew doing anything for money. Well guess what, fatass. I do what I do and I do it very well. Law school's expensive, not that you'd know, and this shit helps pay the bills. I feel no shame whatsoever, so bite me, fat-boy!"

"And how much extra would _that_ cost?" Cartman sarcastically wondered.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Seriously Kyle? This is what you do now?"

"Ahem!"

Kenny emerged from behind Kyle with his palm outstretched. "There's still the little matter of my client's up-front payment."

"Your client?" Stan questioned.

"I'm his stripper pimp." Kenny explained.

"That's not the correct terminology." Kyle said. "Yeah though, I'm not performing until I get paid."

"Good!" Stan said. "Cartman, what the _hell_ made you think I'd want a _male_ stripper at my party?"

"Like I said, this was probably more a gift for himself than for you." Kyle repeated.

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about." Cartman defended. "I could've sworn it was a girl I ordered on the Web site."

"Sure." Stan said, now also skeptical.

"You can cancel if you want, but we're keeping the deposit." Kenny offered.

"Screw that!" Craig protested from the couch. "We all chipped in on the stripper. We're getting a show here." The other men in the room seemed to agree. Complaints and familiar chants of "Rabble, rabble, rabble!" filled Stan's living room.

"You aren't even gay, Craig!" Stan argued.

Craig shrugged. "Yeah well we've already committed to this. We can't stop now."

"Yes we could!"

Kyle frowned. "I thought you'd be happy to see me, Stan."

Stan frowned; his firm opposition to this idea softening just a tiny bit. "I...Kyle of course I'm happy to see you. We've barely even spoken since you went to law school."

"Then just let me entertain. Please? It's my job. I'll earn some extra money and we can catch up during your lap dance."

"_Lap dance_?!" Stan said, shocked.

"That's the spirit!" Kenny encouraged. "Get in there!" He slapped Kyle on the ass, effectively shoving him inside of the party. He invited himself in as well; glaring expectantly at Cartman for the money.

"Fine, fine." Cartman produced the second half of the payment. Stan was seemingly on board, at least.

...

Despite a lack of female anatomy, Kyle danced and stripped very well. The drunker the men became, the more enticing Kyle's body looked in their eyes. Finally, it was time for the groom's lap dance. Though initially dreading the big moment, Stan had managed to loosen up over the course of the night. Why not embrace it? He was seeing his friend again, and what could better prepare him for a lifetime of sex with one woman than a dude grinding on his junk? It was certainly the exact opposite of some tempting, big-boobed blonde, right?

Stan's friends loaded up his pockets with the remaining ones. Except for Cartman, who had run out of bills to make Kyle literally dance for a half hour ago. As Kyle's hips gyrated and his thong-clad ass rubbed against Stan's crotch, the men around them cheered. During the ruccus Kyle and Stan quietly discussed everything. Kyle's move. School. Stan's job. And, of course, the upcoming wedding.

"And that's when we decided to get married." Stan slurred; a bit wasted from the celebratory drinks he'd been getting handed all evening.

"That's awesome." Kyle replied. "I'm glad you're okay with this now. To be honest, I was worried maybe you didn't want me stripping here because you thought I was ugly or something."

"What? No. No no no. You're...I mean, if I were gay..." Stan tried changing topics. "...Doesn't this bother you though? Stripping for a bunch of dudes?"

"Not really. Turns out I'm bi."

"...Really?"

"Yep. It's pretty sweet. Straight guys won't do gay parties and some gay guys won't do girls' parties, but I get to be available for all of it."

"Huh. Which one do you do more often?"

Kyle grinned. "You mean at work, or in bed?"

Stan blushed, embarrassed. "I...I didn't mean-"

"It's okay. In bed I do more guys. At work, more girls' parties. Actually I've gotta get going soon. I've got another gig tonight. Do you know where Waterson Street is from here?"

Stan paused; sobering up quickly at the mention of that area. "...Waterson Street..."

"Yeah. It's some bachelorette party at the Comfort Inn."

"...That'd be Wendy's party."

Kyle laughed. "Seriously? Oh shit."

"It's not funny, Kyle!"

"It kind of is, dude."

Stan glared at no one in particular. He hated when Cartman was right. How dare Wendy make him feel worried about his own party's debauchery when she and her friends were literally having the same naughty time over there? Luckily there was still time to get even. Still a few minutes to one-up Wendy's party and enjoy his last hurrah of singledom. In Stan's drunken mind, he came up with what seemed like a good idea.

"...Do you do...other things?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, if someone gave you extra money to do...more than strip, would you?"

Kyle glared at his friend, but continued grinding his nude form against Stan just the same. "I'm not a fucking hooker if that's what you're asking."

Stan's eyes drooped downward in guilt and further embarrassment. "Sorry."

"I'll fuck you for free though."

Stan's eyes widened upon hearing that news. He looked back up to make sure he had heard correctly, and was met by one of Kyle's eyes winking playfully back at him.

"But...How will I know if I'd like it?"

"Take it from me: it's all the same with the lights out."

"...Prove it." Stan challenged.

Kyle removed himself from Stan's lap. He took the drunk groom's hand and carefully escorted the staggering Stan toward the nearest darkened bedroom.

"...Wendy's gonna kick my ass." Cartman realized fearfully as he watched Stan retreat.

"Again." Kenny added with a laugh. "Don't worry about it; Wendy's credit card was used for the deposit on Kyle for her party."

"You mean...?"

Kenny smirked. "Mm-hmm, hand-picked just like yours was. That's one married couple who's gonna share everything, if you know what I mean."

"But what if she just watches him dance and doesn't sleep with him?"

"She will. Wendy's a horny drunk."

"How do you-"

"Long time ago. Don't ask."

Cartman grinned. Blackmail? Jackpot! "Yes, perhaps I shouldn't mention it. And perhaps I won't if I could have my stripper money back."

"Perhaps I'll take twenty bucks on top of your stripper money to not loudly tell everyone here you got a boner watching Kyle dance."

"...I hate you, Kenny."

...

"If any person present has knowledge why these two people should not be joined as husband and wife, let them speak now, or forever remain silent."

The wedding went off without a hitch.


	3. wendy's choice

Author's notes - Sorry about that last chapter. I don't know what FFN's problem was. Something to do with how I chose to separate my scenes, I think. Chapter 2 is fixed now, just without any proper scene dividers for now. Feel free to read and review it and hopefully enjoy this chapter as well. This is an odd Wendy POV oneshot.

Maybe it will be okay.

Plenty of people carry the ginger gene but don't know it. Eric Cartman is half-ginger, but you can't tell that just from looking at him. The ginger gene isn't in our DNA, but the odds of us having a red-haired child are still one in four. Stan is driven crazy by most of his immediate family, so I doubt he's looked into his family tree. What if the stupidity from his father is inheritable, right? Maybe I can justify this. Maybe I can blame it on a recessive gene.

Oh, god. What if he doesn't buy it? Worse, what if he thinks Cartman did it? Or one of those creepy Ginger Kids up the street.

No. I can't take that chance.

But what else can I do about it? I'm against abortion morally. Women should have the legal right to choose but I've always believed I'd choose to keep it. If I were to go back on that now I'd be a hypocritical slut using abortion as a form of birth control. I'd be no better than the girls I loathe at school.

I guess there's always adoption. But would Kyle go for that? Maybe he wants kids someday. He raised his brother well. Personally I think he'd be a good father. He's also smart as hell, which bodes well for our offspring. If Stan left me over this, especially if Stan left me over this, Kyle would want to do the right thing and if nothing else help raise the baby.

Wouldn't he?

Maybe he'd hate me for driving a wedge between him and Stan. They're so close. So close that maybe Kyle would rather sacrifice a chance at parenthood than risk their relationship. So close that maybe he'd encourage me to adopt, abort, or anything else that would keep this as quiet as possible forever so he doesn't lose Stan.

Maybe he should've thought of all that before he slept with me.

Maybe I should have too.

Maybe I should just poke some holes in Stan's condoms, seduce him tonight, and hope for the best. At least then he'd think there's a chance it's really his.

Why are these opened already? Why are there only three in the pack? I guess it serves me right. But who is his side-fling?

Who's texting me? Not now.

It's from Kyle. I'd better check. This could be important.

It's a picture message.

A picture of a sleeping Stan on Kyle's bed. Topless. Possibly bottomless too, but I can't tell because there's a blanket placed over his crotch. An awakened Kyle is laying next to him, also topless but strategically covered from the waist down, and giving the camera a thumbs up. Whatever the opposite of bed of shame is, this would be it. Interesting. There's text accompanying the picture. Better read that too.

'I don't think he's gonna be able to get that mad. It's cool.'

Two wrongs shouldn't make a right, but in this case I'll take it.


	4. hoarding

Author's notes: Until I figure out how to fix it, there will be no scene transitions in these oneshots. Sorry about that. I'm not a bad writer who doesn't understand the importance of them. I'm a bad writer who isn't able to use them because FFN just doesn't seem to want me to. Hopefully I'll get an answer on fixing that soon enough. In the meantime, enjoy this next oneshot, which is mostly a Stan x Kyle one. Unintended, but there it is.

Kyle cringed when he heard the bedroom door open behind him. How had he been caught? The floorboards usually made more noise when stepped on. There was no denying this. He knew it wouldn't be pretty, but it was for Stan's own good. Kyle braced himself for the confrontation and turned to face his friend.

"Get out." Stan said. His tone was firm but softer than Kyle had anticipated it would be.

"I will in a few minutes. I'm just-"

'Get out." Stan repeated. His tone grew more insistent.

"Stan, you're hoarding again."

"No I'm not." Stan kept his socks on as he stepped overtop of various items scattered around his bedroom's floor in order to get to Kyle and the bed currently being cleaned.

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not. Now get out, please. You don't have a right to be here. How would you like it if I just showed up at your house and started throwing away your things?"

"Yes, you are." Kyle's hands shook a nearly full trash bag to demonstrate his point. "This was just from your closet, dude. Look at this place!"

"You cleaned my closet?!" Stan stepped on various pieces of abused paper; his feet further crumpling the paper in the process. After a bit of straining he managed to pry open his walk-in closet's door. It was still filthy inside, but slightly less filthy than it had been before Kyle had gotten to it. Stan frantically dug through the remaining garbage; tossing wrinkled, ill-fitting clothes and irrelevant magazines out of the closet and onto the bedroom floor. "Where is it?! What did you do with it?!"

"With what?" Kyle said patiently.

"The book. Wendy's book. She left it here. That wasn't yours to throw away! This is why you shouldn't be in other people's business!" Stan said with increasing aggitation. "Dammit Kyle! Every time you do this you throw away something important!"

"No, you just think I do, because you can't distinguish what's actually important anymore. I'm trying to help you here. I'm the only one left actually trying to help you. The only one who will still come into your house."

Stan pushed aside hung clothes in search of the book. He looked on the closet's shelf; only finding old, incomplete board games which he hadn't played in years. "What if she gets mad at me for losing it? It was her favorite philosophy book. What if she comes back for it? It won't be here! It won't be here because of you!"

"SHE ISN'T COMING BACK, STAN!" Awkward, uncomfortable, angry silence filled the room. It needed to be said, but Kyle still felt bad for having to be the one to say it. "Her book was from the dollar store. It had faded text and a bent corner in some places. She's had like a year to come get it back, or even to just ask you for it back, but she hasn't. She doesn't want it back, Stan. ...She doesn't want -you- back."

Stan's cats, all twelve of them, entered the bedroom through the still-open door. Kyle knew that they said animals could sometimes sense an owner's sadness. They say that the pet will try to cure sadness by distracting their master with love and a desire for affection. Whoever the hell 'they' are. Kyle bent down to pet a few cats as they passed him. The cats didn't immediately head for the closet, but they did meow for attention and paw at the paper on the floor either out of curiosity or to try to receive special attention. Stan slowly exited the closet, looking more upset than he had been upon entering it. He was more concerned that the cats were tearing up something important than with their individual needs. He made sure the paper was away from their destructive paws before petting them from head to tail.

"What about sentimental value?" Stan weakly argued. "Doesn't that mean anything to you? Maybe I wanted to keep the book to remember her by."

"Don't tell me about sentimental value, Stan. I keep a picture of us in my wallet. Now you're just justifying it so you can keep everything. You said the same thing about the jar she gave you."

"That jar was special!" Stan defended. "She gave it to me for Valentines Day! It had those little hearts on it and inside jokes we had. We moved in together. We moved in together, and put our pens and stuff in the jar."

"And then she left you. Kicked you out of your own house, and the jar broke in the move to this place. And even after it broke you tried to piece it back together, no matter how cut up your hands got. Doesn't all that tell you something, Stan? If you ask me, it's symbolic."

"You're just jealous!" Stan accused before lunging for Kyle's trash bag. He shuddered as his hands sifted through; touching God only knows what in the process. Naturally Stan found an excuse to remove everything that Kyle deemed trash. Kyle, who had always been much more stubborn than Stan, placed it right back inside of the bag. Soon the boys were fighting over it. The bag itself was eventually tossed aside as the tug of war escalated. Cats scurried away in fear as Kyle and Stan fell to the dirty floor; wrestling around on top of old newspapers and Stan's "prized" Terrance And Phillip collection that had gotten so large the remaining pieces were laid on the floor because there was nowhere else to display or place them.

"Jealous my ass! You need help, dude!"

"No I don't! Mind your own business and stop throwing away my life!"

"This isn't your life: these are things! Material things that you could lose all of in a fire or something and still be okay! Jesus Christ, how much of her shit is still around here, huh? Am I going to find that jar if I keep cleaning!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?!"

"Like what?!"

"Finding Wendy's stuff. You're probably hoping I kept her underwear or we made a sex tape or something! You always had a huge crush on her! Don't think I didn't notice!"

"...Had." Kyle confessed. He stopped struggling as the admission he'd long repressed left his lips; effectively ending the boys' wrestling match. "Yes, I had a crush on her, but then I got over it. Like you need to do now. This is why you're hoarding again, isn't it? You lose her. You lose half your stuff. I get it's traumatic, but dude, there are way better ways you can deal with this. And there are way too many cats here."

"...She's pregnant."

"Wendy?"

"The girl cat. I forget her name."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Because you have too many of them. And if she's pregnant, you're about to have more."

"I know." Stan said; his own tone turning confessional. "I know, okay? I know."

What started as a fight quickly turned into a cuddle session. Stan needed comfort, and Kyle was better than any cat at providing it. They remained on the floor; Stan trying to keep himself from crying in Kyle's arms. Instinctively Stan's arms found their way around Kyle's body in return. Temporary silence once again filled the room; this time more sad than angry or uncertain. It was Kyle who tried desperately to end the bad mood with some dark humor.

"...Got any nudes of her?"

Stan reluctantly chuckled. "Dude! You're joking, right?"

"Halfway." Kyle admitted. Damn his honesty! Better save himself with a more obvious joke. Something he'd never actually suggest in real-life. "We could put them online. You know, totally ruin her political future." Sure, that's what he had in mind. Let's go with that.

"Nah, too Cartman-like." Stan said.

"Not Cartman-like enough." Kyle corrected. "Cartman would put them online for money, then start a company specializing in removing nude photos from the internet for more money."

"Sounds about right." Stan agreed. "...I miss her."

"Me too."

"So why don't you keep jars and books laying around?"

Kyle shrugged. "Everyone's different."

"So let me be different."

"Not this time. This kind of different is bad for you."

Stan sighed into Kyle's shoulder. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

"...Can I at least say what gets thrown out?"

"Only if you actually let things be thrown out. And you go to therapy."

"Come on Kyle, I don't need therapy."

"Then I'm coming to your house every weekend until I see regular, relative cleanliness. And don't just throw shit under the bed or in the closet because I'll check there too."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Okay then, mom. Anything else?"

"Yes." Kyle pressed his lips to Stan's cheek. "I love you. I love you, Stan, and I'm here for you. Okay? We're gonna get through this."

"...You love me." Stan repeated in slight deadpanned disbelief. One arm unwrapped from around Kyle to allow Stan's hand to touch his cheek on the spot where Kyle had just kissed him. "As a bro, or...?"

"Do bros kiss each other?" Kyle asked rhetorically.

"Generally not, no."

"That answers that then."

"Guess so. So is that how you got over her? By deciding you loved me?"

"Basically. Except it wasn't a decision. You can't choose who you love. You can only choose whether or not to do something about it."

Stan's lips found Kyle's without another thought. It was a quick kiss meant to thank Kyle for his constant support, and perhaps a quick 'Fuck you' to Wendy for being absent in Stan's life. Sometime later on they'd have to sit down and have one of those serious talks about their relationship that guys were typically no good at having. For now though there were already enough odd feelings to try to power through. Slowly, with Kyle's help, Stan managed to return to his feet.

'More symbolism', Kyle thought. Stan bravely joined his hand with Kyle's. Together the two journeyed into the unknown corners of Stan's closet. Their free hands managed to throw out a few items. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. "You know, once this room's actually clean, we could fuck in here." Kyle pointed out. If that wasn't motivation, he didn't know what was.

"But what if we date or whatever and I start hoarding your stuff instead?" Stan pointed out.

"Then I'll just have to never leave you."

"Because you love me?"

"Because someone has to be around to make sure you keep a clean house."


	5. Lonely Hearts Club

Author's note: Happy Valentines Day! My gift to my readers today is some holiday-themed Stan x Kyle x Wendy. This chapter actually went through a lot of changes, but when I found a natural flow I went with it and refused to edit beyond what was needed. I hope you all enjoy this. Read and review, as always. Oh,  
and I'm trying "..." for my scene transitions now. Let's hope FFN likes them.

...

Stan's locker vomitted a sea of pink and red miscellaneous items. Stan leapt back in surprise, then glared down at his feet. He'd have to clean up the surprise love mess before class started, lest he get in trouble. He wasn't ungrateful for the gifts, but this was getting ridiculous! Wendy and Kyle had always been competitive at everything, but competing for Stan's love was becoming a bit much. For fuck's sake, it wasn't even Valentines Day yet!

As he struggled to stuff the items back into his locker, Stan took a quick mental inventory of the presents his not-so secret admirerers had left. They would likely quiz him on what he'd received later on to make sure he'd actually paid attention to their thoughtful gifts. At least, Wendy would probably do that. She'd likely put extra subtle details into her presents, some of which Stan would surely miss, thus making him appreciate it even more when she pointed out the extra love and care to him. Kyle didn't give a shit about that kind of thing. Or, at least, he pretended like he didn't, because he was trying to be a cool guy about it. Secretly though he'd wonder if his Valentines were better than Wendy's, and it would be up to Stan to tell him how great his whatever-the-fuck was. Apparently they'd each broken into Stan's locker to leave a series of Valentines cards, paper hearts, stuffed animals, and chocolate boxes in an attempt to outdo the other one. Great minds think alike.

Stan groaned at the last two items left on the floor: love notes. It was too early on a Monday morning to be memorizing heartfelt passages. It was also too early in the day to potentially get a second round of wood, depending on how dirty the notes got. Stan wouldn't be able to take care of himself for hours and he refused to put himself through that. He pocketed the notes for later and headed for his first class.

...

"You aren't buying lunch today." Kyle said.

Stan's eyebrows rose in surprise and, if he were being honest, slight concern. "I'm not?"

Kyle grabbed Stan's hand; leading him away from the lunch line. He brought Stan to a table that had been roped off from the others in the cafeteria thanks to cautionary police tape. Stan wasn't going to ask where Kyle had gotten it from. The less he knew if he were questioned by police later on, the better. Kyle had further distinguished their table by placing a large checkered table cloth over it, along with candles for a romantic candlelit dinner atmosphere. Technically it was lunch, and Kyle had to use little birthday candles so as to not set off the school's fire alarm, but it was the thought that counted, right? A few students snickered and gave the boys a few choice remarks as they walked past, but for the most part no one cared that much. This was South Park. The unusual was commonplace.

"This is really sweet." Stan complimented. "Nice-sweet, not cool-sweet." he clarified.

"Thanks."

"But, listen, this whole thing with you and Wendy-"

A loud smashing sound distracted Stan from his sentence. Both he and Kyle turned their heads to locate the source of the interruption. It was Wendy, at the side of the table, slamming a large bowl down between the two boys. Kyle rolled his eyes. "Did you not see the police tape?"

"He won't be eating whatever kosher crap you made. Most likely with help from your mom. _I_ made Stan's favorite potato dish." Wendy bragged. "From scratch, and you _know_ cooking isn't my favorite activity, Stan. It enforces a negative female stereotype, and - "

"Blah, blah, blah." Kyle muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?!"

"You guys!" Stan objected. "Seriously, this is all becoming a bit much."

"Congratulations, I guess." Kyle said; addressing Wendy and ignoring Stan. "You gave up what you believe in to impress a guy. Good for you." he said sarcastically.

"No, I did something thoughtful and completely selfless."

'Oh, please! Completely selfless?" Kyle challenged. "You did this to screw me over. You're _always_ trying to screw me over because God forbid you not be the best at something for once."

"You guys!" Stan tried again.

Wendy grabbed an unused chair from a nearby table. Stan flinched; worried she was about to break it over Kyle's skull. Thankfully, she chose to sit down instead. She'd already interrupted lunch. She may as well make it official.

"Right. Like _you_ don't strive for perfection? Like you aren't trying to get the hottest guy in school for yourself partially just to say you have him? Are you even gay, Kyle?"

"What?! How can you even ask me that?"

"Are you?" Wendy repeated.

Kyle hesitated to reply. "I'm bi if you must know."

"Ah-ha!" Wendy exclaimed.

Kyle rolled his eyes yet again. "What 'ah-ha!'?"

"So you could have any guy _or_ girl you want, but you expect me to believe you just _happen_ to target _my_ man, huh?"

"He's not _your_ man, and I couldn't have _anybody_ I wanted." Kyle replied. "I'm not the hottest guy in school, remember?"

Wendy shrugged. "Second hottest then."

"_Wendy_!" Stan protested. He hadn't expected that.

Kyle paused, then smiled. "Wait, you really think so?"

"_Dude_!"

"What? Don't you agree with her?"

"I mean, _I_ think you're the hottest guy because I don't wanna put myself at the top. That'd be arrogant of me. And I think Wendy's the hottest girl. And...Can't we please just leave it at that? Seriously, you guys are kind of...smothering me here."

"We only have to fight so hard for you because the other won't back off." Wendy pointed out. "And seeing as I was in your life first, and that bi boy here has more options, I think it's only fair it be Kyle who walks away."

"You were _not_ in Stan's life first!" Kyle pounded his fist on the table to emphasize his point. "I've known Stan since pre-school! _You_ didn't come into the picture until at least third grade!"

Wendy paused. Was that right? "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I remember the first time we saw you. We were meeting Santa at the mall. You'd gotten there first, of course, so we had to sit there and watch you on Santa's lap getting whatever you wanted ahead of us. Afterward, Stan said how pretty you were. I agreed, and Kenny said something perverted. I told Stan your name, since I remembered you from class, and that he should ask you out or something."

It was Wendy's turn to smile. "You thought I was pretty?"

Kyle shrugged. "Well, sure. You still are."

Stan blinked. "Uh, guys?" How the hell did they get here? He was thankful for the moment of peace, but was he being forgotten? That's kind of fucked up.

"How did you remember me from class?" Wendy asked.

"You were the only kid besides me with a weird last name. The other kids thought they were weird anyway."

"I remember that." Wendy's memories were a mixture of horror and fondness. "Cartman led the charge against us. Encouraged the other kids to shun us and mock our names."

"And then we ended up together at the loser table for a while. With Butters and some other kids."

"And we traded lunches sometimes." Wendy remembered. "I ate your mom's tuna fish sandwich before I realized what it was and how horrible the dolphins were treated."

"And then I made fun of Cartman's weight, and just like that we were cool again."

"_You_ were cool." Wendy said bitterly. "I was cool only by associating with you. And then Cartman learned what a Jew was, and you weren't cool anymore."

"I'm _still_ cooler than he is."

Wendy laughed. "Well that's not saying much."

Fuck it. Stan dug into his potato dish before it got cold. Talking to these two was proving futile, and he was honestly pretty hungry.

"Kyle, I'm sorry. Maybe we've been going about this the wrong way. It's just that I was Stan's first love. His _only_ love, until _you_ decided you just had to have him too."

"I'm sorry too. Look, I know it's tough, but first love doesn't mean only love. You can't cling to only Stan forever. And besides, me liking him isn't a choice."

"I know you can't choose who or what you like, but you _can_ choose to back off."

"Why should I have to back off?" Kyle said. "If Stan's entertaining the idea of being with me at all, maybe _you_ need to back off. I mean, no offense, but he may not even like girls anymore, let alone you."

"I like girls!" Stan defended with a mouthful of potato. "I just...like you too."

"Well, who do you like more?" Wendy dared to ask. "I'm not backing down if I don't have to. Why should I have to give up my first love just because other people decided they love him too?"

Stan looked between the two; his stomach twisting in knots. He wasn't hungry anymore. There was no right way to answer this. He didn't want to hurt either one of them. "Look, does this really matter? I mean, next year you're going to Harvard, and Kyle's going to Yale. Because you two just _had_ to compete for straight As and being valedictorian and all that other school crap. We wouldn't last anyway. I don't want to pick one of you over the other, so I'm not going to, all right? Case closed!"

Wendy frowned. "Well, fine then."

"Wendy, I'm sorry. Come on it's not that bad."

"No, I know. What you're saying makes sense. It's just...Well I can't believe you wouldn't jump at the chance to be with me after that note."

"The note?"

"You didn't read it?!"

"Not...Not yet."

"Did you read mine?" Kyle asked somewhat excitedly. That was code for 'Was it better than hers? Did you read mine but not hers? I kick ass, huh!'. Stan decided to quickly open both notes to avoid the wrath of his wannabee lovers. Wendy's note first since she seemed a bit more upset about it.

"No, don't!" Wendy protested. "Not now!"

Too late. It was a scented letter. Scented like the perfume Wendy wore. Stan liked that perfume, but God help him if he could actually remember its name. An intentional move on her part, no doubt. The love note was hand-written in Stan's favorite color. All lowercase I's were dotted with hearts, which Wendy ordinarily didn't do in her everyday writing. There was that extra personal touch again. There was also a photograph enclosed with the letter. A small 3x5 Polaroid of Wendy, nude, but with strategically placed hearts covering her most intimate areas. The photo was most likely so small and taken with an older camera to avoid a digital copy falling into the wrong hands or a larger copy being accidentally seen by everyone. Like it would have been now were Stan waving around a naked 8x10. Good planning, Wendy. Good planning indeed. Wendy had also made sure to cut her face out of frame, but better safe than sorry.

Kyle's note was typed, but still contained a personal touch. It featured blue letters on an orange background. They were the colors of the Denver Broncos, Stan's favorite NFL team. Kyle's note also contained a small, dirty photo. A photo of a Kyle sundae. His pale skin was drizzled lightly with chocolate syrup; the trail leading down to Kyle's privates, which themselves were concealed by whipped cream. The actual can of whipped cream was in Kyle's hand; spraying the white substance into Kyle's opened mouth. Intentional innuendo on the Jew's part. Stan also assumed the photo was supposed to tie into the lunch date had Wendy not messed it up. Something about having Kyle for dessert, or taking his cherry, or some other delicious pun. Stan was grateful he'd waited to open both notes. Sure enough, they both aroused him in different ways.

Too bad he'd just dumped them both.

"...What'd you send him?" Kyle couldn't help his curiosity even though he was a bit afraid to ask. Wendy was so concerned with Stan looking at her note too late. How bad could it really be?

"Nothing." Wendy snapped. "None of your business. What did _you_ send?" she accusatorily asked.

"...Nothing." Kyle replied; trying desperately to play it cool.

The girl and the redhead looked at each other a moment, then turned their focus on an increasingly-nervous Stan. The would-be lovers lunged across the table; grabbing for the other's note. Stan protested, but he was no match against such strong, feiry competitors. Before he could literally be pulled apart by both parties, Stan unwillingly relinquished the notes.

"...Nice." Kyle remarked.

"...Likewise." Wendy replied. It was still embarrassing, but at least they were even in the blackmail department. "Wasn't it difficult getting all that stuff off you?"

"Huge pain in the ass." Kyle confirmed with a frown. "But that's the lengths I go to to try to impress Stan. And then he just...breaks up with me." Kyle returned Wendy's note to her peacefully after only a momentary stare. Wendy did the same for Kyle, and the two smiled knowingly at each other from across the lunch table.

"...Y-you know, we've got a whole year." Stan backtracked. "We probably _could_ go out until then."

"Save it, Stan." Wendy said. "You can't just play with our emotions like this."

"_What_?!"

"Getting us all worked up and fighting over you, and then you aren't even man enough to make a choice!"

"No no, I just didn't wanna-"

"Yeah, you're a dick!" Kyle agreed.

"I am not!"

Kyle reached under the table he'd set up. He retrieved a small, hidden picnic basket. Inside? Sandwiches. "Dolphin-safe this time. Have you eaten yet?" he asked Wendy.

"No. Thanks." Wendy snatched a sandwich for herself, as did Kyle.

"You guys, maybe we could just try-"

"Didn't you finish lunch already?" Kyle impatiently said. "Get outta here! We'd like to be alone."

A dejected, horny Stan quietly vanished from the special checkered table, leaving Kyle and Wendy to their impromptu lunch date.

Fortunately there were still plenty of seats available at the loser's table.


	6. PDA

"_Mmm_!"

My spine shivered. The pencil in my hand stilled its movements while the pencil in my pants moved a few inches upward, causing my jeans to tighten. I'm not usually voyeuristic. Stan and Wendy had made out in my presence a few times before but it had never distracted me from studying even once. Then again, I'd never heard Wendy moan before.

Usually when we hung out they were pretty respectful about the public displays of affection. They knew it was taking advantage of me. Stan and Wendy's parents trusted them alone together so long as there were other people also in the room, but they made sure PDA wasn't an every time occurrence so as not to make me uncomfortable or use me too often for my extra body. Even when they _did_ decide to exploit the private time, they stuck to only making out. The few times they _really_ had to they went off somewhere else to do God knows what so it wouldn't be awkward with me in the same room. It was always all very controlled, and Wendy was always the one doing the controlling. Whether it was her relationship with Stan or on the debate team at school, Wendy always projected a sense of dominance and poise. Which I guess is why Wendy Testaburger moaning in _uncontrolled_ lust was quite possibly the hottest thing I'd ever heard. It wasn't even so much the sound of the moan that I liked, as attractive as Wendy was, but what the sound represented: Wendy losing control for Stan. Logically this meant that Stan must be really, _really_ good in bed to make Wendy lose it like that.

Science homework would _definitely_ have to wait.

Now more than ever I was grateful that I'd positioned my desk far away from my bed and all the other fun stuff in my room. Facing toward a wall usually meant nothing could distract me from work since everything cool was behind me, but I should've realized there was an exception to every rule. I kept one hand on my textbook and the other tightly gripping my writing utensil. I had to keep my hands busy or else they might go where my mind was going. Besides, if I kept up the illusion of work, maybe Wendy and Stan would keep up their little show a bit longer.

"_Mmm_!"

Oh, god, she'd done it again! What exactly _was_ Stan doing that felt so great? Sure, physically I had some vague idea of what it could be, but I wanted Wendy-specific details. What could I do though? Certainly not turn around and gawk. Though, if I did, would they even notice at this point? I didn't want them to stop because of me, but I also didn't want them to leave the room.

Maybe a quick peek wouldn't hurt. I could get up to stretch. No. They'd see my hardon. I could pretend to drop the pencil and look for it. Yeah, that one might work. So I did it. I dropped the pencil to the ground and discreetly kicked it away from the desk, making sure it rolled in their direction. With that, I'd officially entered creepy pervert territory. God help me.

I dropped to the floor and crawled toward the writing instrument that I pretended not to see in plain sight. My hands fumbled around to make it look as real as possible. From the bed, I heard a zipper come undone. Was that Wendy's dress, or Stan's pants? Unfortunately they were under the covers by this point so I couldn't see much of anything, but that didn't deter me from trying. I made another bold move by rolling the pencil underneath of the actual bed, allowing me to get closer to them. I could hear the springs squeaking under their moving bodies.

"_Ugh_!"

Stan's moan was huskier than Wendy's, obviously, but still sexy in its own way. I don't think they noticed me. As I reached my hand under the bed in pretend search of the pencil, I felt a bunch of other items I'd forgotten about under there: My baseball, a pizza box, but most importantly, a box of condoms. One I'd opened but hadn't been able to use in some time. I wondered if they needed one. If I offered, it was kind of like my way of telling them it was okay to stay here and finish up. Would they even pick up on that though? Timidly I removed a condom from the pack and held it up for them to see. And take, if they wanted.

I don't know if Stan or Wendy yanked the blanket down first, but it hit the floor about as fast as my jaw did at the sight of their gorgeous, unclothed bodies. They didn't take the condom, pull up the blanket, or even stop what they were doing. I guess I'd forgotten that voyeurism worked two ways.

More like three ways.

The next zipper that came down was definitely mine. It was followed by my pants. Wendy and Stan both reached out and took hold of my hands before pulling me onto the bed with them like some kind of sex-hungry zombies capturing prey. Wendy applied the condom onto me while Stan held me down with his lips on mine; silently reassuring me that everything happening was okay.

I miserably failed my science test.

It was worth it.


End file.
